Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (42 page)

He wanted to ask. To make her tell him what was wrong. Even if it was none of his concern.

Then she glanced up. “Sometimes he makes up his own to tell me.” This time her smile was broad. “His tend toward epic battles, with lots of bams and pows.”

He was caught in the warmth of her smile. “Not much kissing.”

She laughed then, shaking her head. “Never.”

Then there it was, bursting into life between them again. Something he couldn’t name—didn’t want to. Something rich and dark and tempting—but with a bite to it, a hint of spice.

Her pupils went wide, turning blue into navy, her nostrils flaring slightly as if she caught the scent, too, of whatever it was that swirled thick as woodsmoke between them. To his surprise, she didn’t move away, though her body held the wariness of a doe poised for flight.

One step, that’s all it would take to have them breast to belly, mouth touching mouth. He could taste that fragile skin, lap up the ruby sweetness inside. He could bare her flesh once more, but this time slowly…privately… Savoring every inch that he’d struggled not to notice before.

And she’d let him. He could feel it pouring over him, the languid warmth of her desire. She might regret it later—absolutely would—but she wanted him now.

As he wanted her.

He should do it—take that step, reach out and grasp what he wanted. Forget the questions, forget that it was temporary, only a shadow of what would fill this damned hunger of the heart.

He would have, for however long it lasted, the blessed surcease of oblivion that only this woman’s warm, willing body could provide. He wouldn’t hurt her, he would make it good for her, no matter how sharp the edges of his wanting. And she wasn’t as fragile as she looked. Though she was small, she was strong in spirit.

And that, of course, was why he wouldn’t. Why he would leave her alone.

Because her valor humbled him. She was strong enough to be gentle, brave enough to reject pity. Something weighed heavily on her, but she asked no quarter, had not wanted to be treated like porcelain, had pitched in and done more than she should.

So when Perrie’s lids drifted downward and she swayed toward him the slightest inch, Mitch did what he should, instead of what he wanted.

He walked away.

And said only “Good night.”

Chapter Eight

W
hen Perrie awoke, the first thing on her mind was the brilliant sunshine. The second was the fool she’d made of herself last night.

Stifling a groan, she rolled over and curled on her side, wanting to pull the covers over her head and stay there forever.

Fool. Idiot. What were you thinking?

She could have sworn Mitch wanted to kiss her, but maybe what she sensed was only how badly she wanted to kiss him. It had taken her hours to fall asleep, replaying that scene in her mind—remembering that they’d gone beyond his contempt, beyond stiff politeness, and finally, actually had a conversation that was almost friendly.

And that somewhere, all of that had changed. Somehow, the air had thickened with almost palpable emotion, so charged that she’d succumbed to its seductive lure, let herself want.

He’d been so close that she could feel the warmth of him, could smell that scent that was only Mitch—part forest, part woodsmoke…all powerfully male.

He’d made her feel safe before, but this was totally different. She wanted to clutch at those sinewy arms, slide her fingers into that dark, tousled hair, feel the connection of her body against the solid length of his.

And she’d swear he’d felt it, too, in that charged moment when time had seemed to stand still.

But when she’d closed her eyes, unable to look at his dark beauty any longer without betraying herself…

He’d said good night and walked away without a backward glance.

What did you expect, Perrie? Simon told you you’re no good at this. You’re not a passionate woman, that’s all there is to it. There’s something missing in you
.

But for one tantalizing instant, she’d thought it might be different with Mitch.

She rolled again, burrowing deeper. She’d never be able to face him again. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Then she drew a deep, steadying breath and threw back the covers, leaping from the bed.

She had to face him, whether she wanted to or not. She’d done lots of things in her life that had seemed impossible at first. Facing Mitch would be nothing compared to escaping Simon.

Perrie’s eyes widened as she realized that she hadn’t thought of Simon in over a day. Not one thought. Not a whisper of worry.

It was a record. Simon had dominated her life for years now.
Please, God, let this last. Don’t let him find us
.

The butter-gold bars of sunshine sprouted the seeds of hope in her heart. Perrie felt the first stirrings of optimism that she would figure it all out, would find a path for Davey and herself, even if it meant leaving this place.

Even if it meant facing Mitch. Asking him where they stood, regarding the cabin.

He wasn’t inside, she was almost sure. Somehow, the cabin felt different when he was there. Once she would have said it felt crowded, but now it felt empty when he was gone. But that wasn’t her concern. Either he would go or they would, that was the certain end.

And knowing that she would handle it, whatever came, renewed her strength. She felt almost like her old self again—not just before her illness, but like the girl who had once thought she could control her fate.

The girl had been wrong, but there were seeds of her that Perrie could use. She could work hard, she could learn, she could make herself and Davey a life.

So when Davey’s eyes popped open, she greeted him with a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead. Rise and shine.”

He glanced at the window. “Wow, sunshine! Can we go outside today? Can we take a walk and look around, so I can show you some cool places Mitch showed me?”

Perrie nodded. “I think a walk sounds just great.”

“Slow down, Davey,” Perrie called out. Mitch still had not appeared by lunchtime, so she’d fixed them lunch and left his warming in the cabinet on back of the woodstove.

Her steps slowed as she reached the small clearing.

Davey darted here and there, all the energy of the two days before exploding from his small frame after being released from the cabin’s boundaries. “Look, Mom, I see tracks over there!”

Perrie couldn’t answer. Before her stood the grandfather spruce Grandpa Cy had called the Old Man of the Mountain.

I spread his ashes around the grandfather spruce
.

Perrie’s hands clasped between her breasts, her vision blurred by her tears.

“Mom, come—” Davey’s voice turned worried. “What’s wrong?”

She could barely hear him, lost in a thousand memories of the gruff old man who’d been her foundation. Over all the years her mother had dragged her from place to place, boyfriend to boyfriend, the only anchor in Perrie’s world had been Cy Buchanan.

You didn’t care enough…too bad you broke his heart
.

She dropped to her knees, doubled over by the pain.

I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I should have been here. If only I’d known
—

“Mom?” Davey was close now, close enough to touch. “What’s the matter?”

She shook her head and opened her arms, enfolding him in her embrace and rocking him from side to side while tears rolled down her cheeks.

Davey hugged her once, tightly, then pulled back. “You’re sad?”

She nodded, sliding first one palm and then the other across her damp skin. “I’ll be all right.”

“Is it Grandpa Cy? Is that why you’re sad?”

Perrie tried for a smile, then pulled him down on her lap, mindless of the snow under her knees. “He would have loved you so much.”

“That’s what Mitch said.”

She blinked at that, surprised at Mitch’s generosity. He would never forgive her, but she would never forgive herself, either. She should have been in touch the first instant she was away from Simon. She should have sensed, somehow, that Grandpa needed her. Should have felt in her bones that something was wrong with the most important man in her life.

Not for the first time, Perrie felt the sick rage of shame for what she’d gotten herself into, for being a blind, naïve fool, for letting Simon dominate her for so long.

“Maybe you could talk to Grandpa Cy like Mitch told me I could still thank my fish. It might not be too late.”

From the mouths of babes
. Feeling an odd spurt of hope, she set Davey on his feet, then rose herself and held out her hand. “I think you’re right. Let’s give it a try.”

Hand in hand, they crossed the white powder. The wind blew through the trees, keening a faint moan that could be a dirge. “Grandpa Cy loved these mountains,” she told Davey. “He never tired of their changing seasons, of the different faces they showed, day to day, and year to year. He called this big tree the Old Man of the Mountains. He said that if I would listen closely, I’d hear the stories this tree could tell.”

“Did you ever listen?”

Perrie had to smile. “I tried, but I was never very good at sitting still.”

Davey giggled at that. “Wiggle worm. Just like you call me.”

She squeezed his hand and nodded, then looked out toward the eastern sky. “Old Man of the Mountain, please tell my grandfather that I love him. And that I’m sorry, so sorry. I miss him so much.” When Davey’s small hand squeezed hers and he leaned against her, the tears came again. “Here’s my son Davey, Grandpa. You’d be so proud of him.” Her throat clogged.

But Davey took over for her. “Mitch is taking good care of us, Grandpa Cy. He made me this bear.” Holding his hand out toward the tree, Davey displayed the wooden friend who hadn’t left his side once today. His voice dropped a little. “I think Mitch misses you a lot.”

Perrie sank to the ground and crossed her arms over her stomach, doubling over and rocking her body, trying to find comfort. Desperately, she grasped for steady ground. She shouldn’t have come here with Davey. Her grief hurt too much, was too raw for a child.

With the last vestiges of her will, Perrie clenched her fists and pulled herself together, forcing herself to sit up straight, thinking of what Grandpa had once said.
You’re the strong one, Perrie. You have no father, and your mother, well, she’s one of the lost souls. But you, you’re a little speck of flesh but there’s strength in you same as these rugged old mountains. Nothing life can hand you that you can’t take. I wish I could keep you here with me, but you need more of a life than an old hermit can give you. You’ll do fine, just come back to see me. I’ll always be here
.

Are you, Grandpa? Are you here?

Perrie tilted her head and looked up the rugged trunk of the Old Man, looked up through the branches that time had not conquered.

And for a moment, she thought she saw her grandfather’s wink in a ray of sunlight arcing down, warming her shoulders.

She drew in a deep breath and bowed her head, pulling Davey close. “Grandpa, I love you.”

Davey whispered beside her, “I love you, too, Grandpa Cy.”

Perrie bit her lip against another rush of tears. But as she lifted her head, she saw an eagle glide just past the other side of the aged spruce. “Look, Davey. I think Grandpa sent us a messenger.” She pointed to the magnificent bird, and together they watched him glide.